Ta-ta Tim, adieu Abdel, merci for the memories

Next Sunday, when we play Sale in our last Premiership match of the season, we'll be saying goodbye to two of the greats: Tim Horan and Abdel Benazzi.

Ending their careers in a dogfight to avoid relegation is a little strange after all they have known - two World Cups for Tim, a grand slam as France captain for Abdel, 80-plus caps apiece - but they'll be fighting to the end, like two aging dinosaurs.

Between them, they've had pretty much every injury possible. They've been useful guinea pigs for a herd of sports doctors, therapists and surgeons. I've warned Tim he has so many metal plates in his body that he's going to have trouble getting on the plane back to Australia.

Tim's presence at Saracens was a determining factor when I chose the club because he's always been a role model for me. I watched him scoring tries against France when I was 18. He was scintillating then, and he hasn't got any slower since. Tackling him is like hugging a tree stump, and the wood he's made of is the stoutest oak.

We French appreciate back play, and he's a magician who has gone through every defence in the world. His finest moment came in 1999, when he was elected player of the tournament in the World Cup after coming back from a knee injury.

At Saracens he's always kept his head up, no matter how difficult things have become for us. He's adept at managing the various characters you find in a team, with a leader's character and a diplomat's tact. I've never seen him lose his temper.

Mind you, there are a couple of strange things about Tim. I went round to his house to deliver something once, at about 8.30 in the evening, and he came to the door rubbing his eyes. The whole family had been asleep, presumably as they were still on Australian time.

Tim's knowledge of Europe is far greater than mine. Whenever I call him he's in Prague, or Stockholm, or Madrid. He's one of a family of globetrotters. They are also a family of casse-cous - breaknecks - as I found when I took him and his family skiing in France, including his son of 3 who had never done it before.

They let go of him at the top of a piste with no barriers, and a road at the bottom, so I ran down a few times to catch him, then nipped off for a cup of tea as he seemed to be coping well. Later the hospital rang to say he'd broken his leg. Like his father, he clearly had no notion of danger. It's what they call the Crocodile Dundee genes.

Abdel, on the other hand, is a man with the physique of a housemover. He's a perce-muraille - a wrecking ball. His career was summed up by Christian Califano when he said: "Abdel arrived in France on a camel and will go back to Morocco in a Ferrari."

His great achievement has been to change mentalities by the example he has shown on the pitch. He has had to fight racism and change the minds of people who would not accept him when he came to France.

I got him to come over to Saracens two years ago when he had gone as far as he could go in France and needed a fresh challenge, and perhaps English rugby hasn't seen as much of him as it might have if the team had been playing better. My greatest memory of him is the try he scored against Scotland as France captain for the grand slam in 1997.

Every rugby fan and player will have extraordinary memories of these two, but I for one can say I'm proud to have played with both of them. Messieurs, chapeau! I take off my hat to you.